Page 35 of Bad Love

An even louder buzzing sounds, and I leap off thebed.

Frontdoor.

I should let it go. But after growing up in a service household, I can't. I'm always afraid it might be someone inneed.

Vibe in one hand, I yank up my pants and stumble out to the livingroom.

I reach for my phone on the counter and hit the button. "Hello?"

"It's Logan Hunter." The low rumble is unmistakeable. "I have something foryou."

There's no way he's here, outside myapartment.

But I drop the vibe on the counter as if it’s scalding hot and run to the window, peering down at his messy brown hair shining gold in the sun two floors down. "How did you get myaddress?"

He glances up as if sensing me, flashes me a devastating grin before leaning back toward the mic. "You soundimpressed."

"Your stalker imitation is uncanny," I say before reminding myself he's still aclient.

I hit myself in the head with my phone three times, and the sound of the line going dead has me blinking. Apparently, I let himup.

Shit.Shit!

I rush to the hallway and stand in front of my door as the stairwell doorclicks.

His hair's damp again. He's wearing a tight, black T-shirt and jeans that make him look as if he got off a motorcycle. When he flashes a grin, there’s a tug low in my stomach. Like he grabbed the front of my yoga pants with those perfect teeth andpulled.

"I like the work-from-home look." Hunter's voice rumbles as he gives me a slow once-over.

That's when I remember I didn’t have time to change into something appropriate. I'm still wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt. I probably look like a junior high student, I realize as I resist the impulse to feel myhair.

He steps closer, bringing with him a masculine scent that’s warm and spicy and entirely unique. The guy doesn't need cologne; he's walking sensoryoverload.

He lifts something between us, and for the first time, my gaze drops. "Foryou."

I study the box in his hand. "Is this a peaceoffering?"

"My grandma's beer. We're working together, and you know nothing aboutme."

I'm caught off guard. "Huh?"

"My grandmother started Hunter’s Cross. She's one hell of alady."

His mouth is too close, in that perilous zone where I’m trapped between wanting to keep staring at his tongue ring and wanting to close the distance so I can feelit.

He smells like a holiday I didn’t know existed. And him talking reverently about his grandmother shouldn't be sexy, but itis.

He looks past me at my door, and it takes my brain a second to catchup.

Ohno.

“You gonna let me in?” Hunter's brow lifts. "I used to play poker in Nellie's dorm room. Dishes, pizza boxes, a few rats… I can take whatever you got. Besides, I came all the way here to seeyou."

I can't let him in. My son will be coming home in the next hour, for starters. But the puppy-dog expression wears medown.

Ten minutes. Then he'sgone.

"Give me oneminute."

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